


(para)normalcy

by n_kei



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ghosts, Hong Kong, M/M, Superstition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-07-12 11:24:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_kei/pseuds/n_kei
Summary: It starts off, innocently enough, when Yukhei wonders if sex with a ghost is possible.





	1. 01

**Author's Note:**

> Actually, it started when yura suggested that I write a Supernatural AU. Then it spiralled into this mess of a fic. Please heed to the rating warning. If you're not old enough, press the back button. The juicy bits are coming.
> 
> This chapter is beta'd by KpopontheDL. Thank you a thousand lifetimes for this <3 If anyone is looking for a beta, reach out to her. She's **the best.**

Mark finishes the rest of his Vitasoy before quickly depositing the carton in the brimming trash bin on the platform. It’s no longer the dead of summer, but the wind blowing through his hair is still warm and humid, matting his dark locks uncomfortably to his scalp. He taps his Octopus Card on the scanner and jumps onto the next train, heading south.

He’s not usually in this much of a hurry. Sure, he’s got a busy schedule, but he makes sure that he never arrives late, a habit ingrained in him by his strict parents. Then again, neither he nor his parents would ever have imagined him befriending Yukhei, the class clown and arguably Mark’s best friend in this country (not that Mark would ever admit this out loud).

They make an unlikely pair.

When Mark first moved to Hong Kong due to his mother’s job, he was concerned that he wouldn’t make any friends. He didn’t even speak Cantonese, for crying out loud. But his mom had already thought it through and enrolled him in an international school so he wouldn’t have to deal with the language barrier on top of everything else.

What was surprising to Mark was everyone, absolutely everyone, spoke English without a lick of an accent. It was mind-blowing. However, they were also rich and rather snobby, and Mark could not relate. So he kept mostly to himself, that is until second period, when a looming shadow falls on him from behind.

“Hey! You’re new aren’t you? I’m Wong Yukhei!”

Mark turns around, then (to his annoyance) looks up several more inches to meet the wide grin of one (very tall) Wong Yukhei.

And that’s how they met.

Yukhei stood out from the others, figuratively and literally. People in Hong Kong do not typically grow above 180 centimetres. Boasting a full 185 centimetres, Yukhei can be spotted from a mile away. And if you can’t see him, you can bet your colourful, Hong Kong dollars that you can hear him from that distance. Yukhei doesn’t try to project his voice, it’s got a speaker of its own.

To say Mark was intrigued (and baffled) from the get-go is an understatement.

There are a few things Mark learns about Yukhei immediately.

Yukhei is friendly, very friendly. And he has very little regard for other people’s personal space, which is kind of annoying. At one point during the short break between classes, he rests his head on top of Mark’s head. Mark isn’t _short_ by any means, but he feels a pit of embarrassment burning in his stomach when Yukhei does it so effortlessly.

The embarrassment may also be due to the proximity. Mark usually doesn’t mind physical contact, but he’s only known the giant Yukhei for all of ten minutes, he’s allowed to feel apprehensive. Especially when- yeah, it’s definitely not flab on those arms. Mark looks away before he’s caught staring, but when he sneaks a look in Yukhei’s direction, finds that his effort is wasted when the other sports a wide shit-eating smirk.

Mark has never wanted to both punch and then kiss someone just as fiercely before. The rush of conflicting urges leaves him more than a little confused.

“Why did you do that?” Mark grumbles, fixing his mussed hair to hide his growing blush.

“Just felt like it.” Yukhei grins widely and shrugs.

So Yukhei's impulsive. Go figure.

The next thing Mark learns about Yukhei is that he is poor, dumb, athletic, and unapologetic about all of the above. He was never taught shame, only to work hard and be proud of his achievements. When Mark goes over to Yukhei’s house for a group project, he meets Yukhei’s mom for the first time and instantly understands.

She stands at 160 centimetres, which is about average, but her presence is big, and her heart bigger. She welcomes Mark with a loud greeting and a tight hug, something of a rarity in traditional Chinese culture. But still being the ever loving mother, she warns Yukhei to behave when guests are over, places some chilled milk tea and butter biscuits on Yukhei’s desk, and leaves.

Apart from their height, Yukhei and his mother are virtually the same person.

That genuine open friendliness is probably what drew Mark towards Yukhei. He’s not like the others. He doesn’t try to put on a persona, a facade. He knows who he is, and he’s more than comfortable in his own skin. It doesn’t mean he’s always right, but instead of being scared to admit wrongdoing, he’s open and undefensive, taking everything in stride with an easy, wide smile.

The last thing that Mark learns, after getting to know Yukhei (and settling in the city of Hong Kong a bit more), is that Yukhei has his head in the stars all the time.

Being born and raised in Hong Kong gives Yukhei the excuse of being affected by the city’s deep-rooted history of superstition and folklore. And he’s always thinking up the most outlandish things. One time he suddenly announced that he was going to become a palm reader because if a palm reader senses a person’s good fortune, he’ll be able to steal their good luck and rewrite his own fate.

Yukhei cackles at the thought, but Mark just rolls his eyes.

“You know, besides the fact that there’s no scientific evidence to any of this, how about actually working for that wealth instead of stealing it from some poor unsuspecting grandma?” Mark says, flicking eraser bits at Yukhei’s forehead.

Yukhei waves that off with a gigantic hand and grins impishly. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Mark opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish. He can’t argue with that logic.

Since it’s, well, _Yukhei’s_ logic.

Fast forward to today. Mark and Yukhei are 21 and studying at HKU. It’s the weekend and Mark has club obligations, but Yukhei sent him a text…

A text that wouldn’t be concerning from anyone else, but from Yukhei…

Mark tightens his grip around the strap of his duffle bag, and his leg bounces out of a nervous habit. Five stations to go.

16:50  
**Yukhei**  
Do you think ghosts can have sex?

With a text like that from Yukhei, it’s safe to assume he’s already on his way to figuring out a way to summon a ghost and have sex with them…

Hell, Mark doesn’t even know where to begin with that question. It’s not like he’s scared of paranormal activity. The world is complex, full of things humans don’t understand even now. If aliens exist (and yes, they do, don’t argue) then ghosts surely can as well.

Summoning one is another topic entirely. He’s seen enough Ouija Board movies to know it never goes well. Mark opens the messaging app, sees a few more new messages from the big dumbass, and sighs loudly.

16:54  
**Mark**  
Bro. Where the fuck are you

16:55  
**Yukhei**  
The temple by home, why?

16:58  
**Mark** **  
** The fact that you’re at a temple after thinking about sex with ghosts is concerning, bro

=== NEW MESSAGES ===

16:59  
**Yukhei** **  
** Lol it’s OK man  
They can’t hurt me  
Mum said I have a strong aura (Y)

Mark snorts and types:  _Stay there, I’m on my way_  before slipping the phone back into his pocket and plugging his airpods in his ears. Any semblance of peace and (relative) quiet will help Mark gather the patience he'll likely need to handle what’s to come.

•••

Yukhei doesn’t need to check his phone to know that Mark is headed his way. He always does, especially when Yukhei pulls dumb shit like this.

Yukhei grins to himself. This is gonna be fun.

He rounds the corner of the temple to the front, where a series of little huts are. In those huts are fortune tellers, some read palms and faces, others read with boards, cards and other devices. His mother said something about a red sign stuck to the front of the hut, and he spots it easily. The man in the hut is old and tanned. He wears a ratty wife beater, cargo shorts, and looks like he might’ve been a butcher in a previous career. He’s watching a small TV that’s sitting on a pile of newspapers. Gulping, Yukhei enters the hut.

“Chan see-fu?” He calls out.

The old man doesn’t even move his head, but gruffly says, “Who's asking?”

Yukhei raises a hand. “Me. I have a question-- No, a request. I want to know how to summon a ghost.”

A low grumble comes from the old man. He finally turns his head and, when he sees Yukhei, raises one bushy, white brow. “Who are you?”

“I’m Yukhei, Wong Yukhei,” Yukhei replies.

“Hm.” The old man gives Yukhei a judging once-over, then twists completely to face him. “You’re an idiot.”

Yukhei blinks. _What?_ “What?” He asks dumbly.

The old man shakes his head and asks, “Why do you want to summon a ghost?”

“Uh. I’m just trying to test out a theory.”

“What theory?”

Because it’s stupid to outright admit that this is all to clarify a question about sex with ghosts, Yukhei stammers out a lame excuse. “It’s hard to explain. I just have a few questions for the ghost.”

The old man surveys his face once more, looking up and down his body, then sighs with a deep rumble from his chest. “I’ll teach you, because you’re you and you’ll be okay, but whatever you’re doing this for better be worth it.”

“I’m not sure what’s gonna happen, to be honest.” Yukhei chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head. “And what do you mean because I'm me?”

The old man squints, then shrugs and waves for Yukhei to take a seat.

 

Five minutes later, Mark bursts through doors of the small temple. When he realizes none of the old people there are Yukhei, he runs out with a hasty apology thrown behind him.

He squints at the line of huts off to the side, pausing. Just then, a booming, low laugh echoes from one of them, and Mark dashes in that direction. His footsteps slow as he approaches the one with the red sign, and peering in, sees Yukhei casually chatting up an old man like best buds. Mark wrinkles his nose at the shabby interior, but enters after a moment’s hesitation.

“Hey,” he says, clapping a steady hand on Yukhei’s shoulder and shooting a suspicious look at the old man, who returns a toothy grin.

“Mark! You’re here!” Yukhei exclaims with a wide smile, like he didn’t expect this at all. “What’s up, man?”

“Making sure you don't do anything stupid,” Mark mumbles under his breath.

Though he couldn’t quite hear it, Yukhei catches the drift when he sees the unamused look on Mark’s face. “Well, I'm just about done here anyway.” Yukhei grins easily, nodding to the old man. “Thanks again for the tips!”

“Hn.” The old man says with a smirk and a wave.

Yukhei stands to his full height and Mark’s hand slips off his shoulder, but it doesn't get too far before Yukhei catches the rough digits in his own larger hand. “Let's go.”

Mark squints and looks between the two men, then he nods wordlessly at the old vendor and half-walks, half-drags out by Yukhei.

Mark pulls at Yukhei arm and hisses, “Bro. What the hell was that?”

Yukhei laughs. “Summoning a ghost is easier than I expected!” He exclaims gleefully.

Mark rolls his eyes. “I can't believe I'm asking this, but are you really going to summon a ghost and have sex with them?”

Yukhei scrunches his nose up. “Dude, that's gross! But I do want to meet a ghost, and now I need to find the things.”

Relieved but still apprehensive, Mark hesitates before asking, “What things?”

“Uh, it’s roughly translated to _spirit dish_. Works like an ouija board. I just need newspaper and a soy sauce dish.”

There must be a  _What the fuck_  look on Mark’s face, because one glance has Yukhei snickering.

“Sometimes I just don’t know what to say to you,” Mark says eventually.

Yukhei’s booming laugh follows them as he leads Mark to the front of an old china and cookware shop. Yukhei ducks inside and comes out a moment later with a sauce dish in a small red plastic bag. Not long after they stop by a convenience store for newspaper.

Mark shoots wary glances at the plastic bag, newspaper, and Yukhei.

Ten minutes later, they arrive at Yukhei’s apartment complex, where the 4th and 40th floors don't exist. Yukhei lives on the 25th floor, a thirty second ride up the elevator. Mark leads the way, pulling the keys from Yukhei’s extended hand, both having acknowledged Yukhei’s terrible lock-opening skills long ago.

Yukhei quickly opens the newspaper to a random page, sees more news of government corruption, and flips to the lifestyle section instead.

“So how does this work, exactly?” Mark asks.

“Draw an arrow on the flip side of the dish, put it on the newspaper, ask a bunch of questions, and wait for something to happen,” Yukhei explains excitedly. “Chan see-fu said it may take a while, so be prepared to wait.”

While Yukhei sets up, Mark goes to the fridge and pours two glasses of water before returning. Yukhei reaches for it without breaking concentration, it's almost automatic, how well they work together.

“Okay! Arrow drawn. Newspaper laid out. Mark, give me your finger.” Yukhei counts each out with a point until he lands on Mark, then he reaches to grab Mark’s hand, who draws back lightning fast.

“Dude. No. I'm not doing this. I'm just supervising,” he sputters, waving his hands and shaking his head in unison.

Yukhei narrows his eyes and makes grabby hands with his giant paws. “But aren't you curious? Don't you want to talk to ghosts?”

“Sure, like, when I become a ghost, not now.” Mark takes a few steps back, hiding his hands behind him.

Yukhei shrugs nonchalantly. “Fine, but you're gonna miss out on the fun.”

Mark mirrors the shrug, but in a mocking manner. “Wowee, miss out on getting possessed by a ghost? Whatever will I do?” He then proceeds to pull out his cram school books. If he's skipping the club event he may as well use the time to review some reading. First up, Korean language.

Yukhei raises an eyebrow. “Homework, it seems,” he comments with a teasing note to his voice.

“Yeah. You got something to say about that?” Mark banters back.

Yukhei hums thoughtfully, then sits in front of the newspaper and puts his hand on the flipped soy sauce dish, the crooked arrow pointing downwards in one direction, and waits.

Mark studies his Korean for a full five minutes and Yukhei’s posture remains largely unchanged.

A second later, however, Yukhei throws his arms up and growls in frustration. “Why doesn't it work? It's supposed to work!”

Mark, having seen this coming from a mile away, snorts and continues his note-taking without pause. “Didn'tChan see-fu say it'll take a while?”

“Maybe it takes two people? The man did say that ghosts tend to like an audience, having gone without living interaction for however long they've been dead for…” Yukhei trails off, shooting a hopeful look at Mark’s head.

Mark keeps his eyes down. He knows Yukhei is doing that thing. That thing when he wants something really bad. That thing Mark absolutely swears is not his weakness, but Yukhei uses it so strategically and effectively that he can't help but be caught up in the moment.

It's Yukhei’s stupid puppy eyes and pout combo.

Yukhei makes a low whine.

Mark steadfastly ignores him.

When Mark doesn't react, Yukhei starts nudging the base of his chair with his foot. It's not enough to make Mark push Yukhei away, but it's enough to chip at his nerves and make the vein on his forehead pulse with irritation.

It's going to be a losing battle if he doesn't do something soon.

But looking up isn't an option.

_Damnit._

“If you have the energy to annoy me, go get me some more water while you're at it,” Mark grits out, hoping that Yukhei would take the bait.

“Why don't you take a break for ten minutes and do this with me?” Yukhei pauses his nudging. “You're not even in the studying headspace thingy yet. C’mon~”

“Study first.”

“Ghost first.”

“Study f-”

“Okay fine, for an hour, but ghost after, pinky-promise stamp on it!”

In a flurry of movement, Yukhei reaches across the small dining table and intertwines his pinky with Mark’s before the other can react. He pushes their thumbs together and laughs in victory.

Mark's eyes widen to dinner plates. “Dude--”

“WE STAMPED AND EVERYTHING! Here, I’m even taking my books out, you can’t back out now!” Yukhei laughs loudly as he pulls out his pen, props his books up and pretends to study.

Mark tries to reason with him, but he knows it's a lost cause. Yukhei is stubborn as a rock. If Mark tried to run away, Yukhei would catch him and pick him up like a sack of potatoes before he even reaches the elevator. The stairs wouldn't make sense. He'd have to go down 25 flights of stairs, during which Yukhei would probably get to him.

Maybe if he waits for Yukhei’s mom to come home, he’ll have a chance to sneak out.

Mark peers over his notes at the stack of newspapers that sits innocently on the edge of the table and scowls.

Why did he get himself into this mess?

 

The next hour flies by ridiculously quickly, and somewhere towards the end, Yukhei’s mom texts him to say that she'll be out with a couple friends watching a movie that evening and that there are leftovers in the fridge.

Mark watches the second last glimmer of hope disappear before his eyes, and resigns himself to his fate.

_Stairs it is._

Mark jumps when he feels Yukhei’s hand on his thigh and looks up. There is sparkle of mischief in Yukhei’s eyes.

“Not gonna run away, are you?” Yukhei smirks.

“Hands off, bro,” Mark growls, peeling the large hand off his thigh with two fingers and a glare. _Fuck, how did he know?_

“You've done your chapter, so let's wrap up now.” Yukhei grins and puts his books away, dragging the newspaper and sauce dish over. Misjudging his strength, the porcelain nearly flies off the other end of the small table. Mark holds his breath, but Yukhei catches it _just_ in time.

“Where are  _you_ going?” He chuckles at the dish and places it back into the middle of the newspaper.

Mark slouches in defeat.

“Fine, I'll do it. Ten minutes,” Mark grumbles under his breath, mentally strapping himself down for the worst.

_No possession. No possession. No ghosts will come._

“For as long as I studied, at least!” Yukhei complains.

Mark huffs and nods stiffly, so Yukhei places Mark’s clammy index finger on one side of the dish, and presses his own firmly on the opposite. Mark stares at Yukhei, who grins back excitedly, then looks down at the dish.

No movement. Nothing whatsoever.

The next ten minutes pass in a similar manner. Mark steals glances at Yukhei, the dish, his wristwatch, then back at Yukhei again, while Yukhei looks at Mark and Mark alone.

_Uh, what?_

Breaking the uncomfortable silence, Mark clears his throat and wonders aloud, “How do they know we're looking for them, anyway?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re supposed to pose questions at any time. It might actually help to get their attention.” Yukhei grins. “Do you have any questions?”

Mark blinks. Why did Yukhei omit such important information at the beginning? He racks his brain for a question. He still doesn't think this works, but since he's stuck here for another hour, he might as well humour Yukhei.

Then he notices his cram school books on the table.

“Think there’d be any Korean ghosts around? I want to practice my Korean.”

Yukhei shrugs, and the dish moves with him. “Dunno. Just ask.”

Mark raises a brow, but asks anyway. “Any Korean ghosts around?”

They wait.

Mark half-expects Yukhei to move the dish and pretend it's not him, but he doesn't. He's staring intently at the dish, then around them, like he really believes this will work.

“Nothing, huh? Why don't you come up with a question?” Mark nods at Yukhei.

“Hm. What about the first--”

Yukhei talks with his hands, like, a lot. But his finger is almost off the dish when it moves, ever so slightly. Then it glides two inches to the left.

They freeze.

A shiver shoots up Mark’s spine and his heart beats faster. A cold terror seizes his insides, spreading through his veins in milliseconds.

“I didn't,” Yukhei whispers, also staring at the dish. Neither of their fingers are on it now.

**yes**

It slides back to the centre, like waiting for them to ask the next question.

“I thought we needed to have our fingers on it…?” Mark hisses.

“Evidently not,” Yukhei says excitedly, voice above a whisper again. His eyes are positively twinkling. “Ghost! Are you Korean?”

Mark facepalms. Of all the questions...

There is a pause, it almost feels like the spirit, ghost, whatever it is, is either contemplating the answer, or is questioning the collective brain cells in the room in exasperation. Finally, the dish moves of its own accord, the crooked arrow pointing to the answer.

**yes**

“Try using Korean to talk to him!” Yukhei suggests excitedly.

Mark eyes the dish warily, and pulls his chair a bit closer. But before he has the chance to say a greeting in Korean, the dish moves again.

 **English  
** **paper**

**Idiot**

Mark meets Yukhei’s eyes for a second, then the latter guffaws, clutching his stomach and laughing so hard tears form at the corner of his eyes. Mark narrows his eyes and clears his throat, trying to suppress the blush on his cheeks.

“Could’ve picked up a Korean newspaper,” Mark grumbles under his breath. He turns back to the dish.

His heart isn’t going a mile a minute anymore, which is good. But then again, for a paranormal experience, this doesn’t feel that scary. Maybe it’s because there isn’t a visible physical form to the ghost, no bloody bits, no gore. Or maybe it’s because despite how fucking weird this all is, Yukhei is grinning and clapping his hands like a seal… Yeah, that’s probably it.

“What’s your name?” Mark asks, finally snapping out of his thoughts.

The dish pauses again, but this time it feels thoughtful, like it’s looking for the right words on the newspaper. Then again, if he’s Korean, his name likely isn’t found on an English paper. Mark chews at his bottom lip for a second, before grabbing a black pen from his pencil case and pulls a corner of the newspaper at him.

The dish moves back, as though surprised.

Mark quickly scribbles the Korean alphabet in neat writing across a blank space, mindful to put enough spacing between the characters, then pushes the paper back into the middle of the table.

“There, this might help,” he says.

Yukhei makes an exaggerated sound of surprise. “Wow, you’re so smart,” he says, wonder and admiration in his eyes. Mark clears his throat and looks away. The dish seems to react the same way, giving off the feeling of  _You have a functional brain after all_.

After a pause, it quickly moves between the characters to spell his name, and Yukhei moves to Mark’s side of the table to see better.

“D...o...ng...h...yeo...k. Donghyuck?” Mark mouths out the syllables with care.

**yes**

Mark hums. “Were you originally from Korea?”

**yes**

Mark frowns. “What were you doing in Hong Kong?”

**Concert**

Both Mark and Yukhei’s eyebrows rise at that.

“Whose concert?”

The ghost pauses for a moment, then goes to the Korean characters.

“Ma...ee...kul...jaek...sun. Michael Jackson? You're a Michael Jackson fan?”

The dish doesn't move, like it’s saying,  _What do you think?_

Mark snorts. For a ghost, this sure is a sassy one.

**are we done Here?**

“Well I originally wanted to ask if--” Yukhei starts.

“Yukhei,” Mark cuts him off, a hand on Yukhei’s arm in warning.

Yukhei rolls his eyes. “Okay  _fine_ , how old were you when you died?”

The question is safe, Mark supposes, because asking a child ghost about sex is all kinds of weird. But then again, making idle chit chat with the dead already puts them way past that line.

The dish doesn't react for a moment, like it's looking for the right words on the newspaper. Then it shifts to the date, sliding from the direction that covers 18 of 2018. Mark gets it.

“Twenty. That’s just a year younger than us.” Mark frowns. Despite the sass, there is something unsettling, something bordering on sympathy, knowing that you’re talking to a person who is no longer alive, and whose life ended much earlier than normal.

Yukhei squeezes Mark’s shoulder in comfort. “Were you a student?” Mark asks.

**second Year university**

“Sorry, but I need to confirm, were you a boy or a girl?” Yukhei suddenly interjects.

Mark really does facepalm this time.

The dish moves in a circle, like it’s thinking. Finally, it settles on the word:

**boy**

Mark chews his lip. “Yukhei you idiot, some people don't relate to those labels. Besides, what does that have to do with your question?”

**question?**

“Oh, sorry about that. And yeah, I just--” Yukhei shoots a cautious look at Mark, and when the other rolls his eyes and nods, pushes on. “Want to know if ghosts can have sex.”

For a long moment, the question settles into stillness, and Mark and Yukhei hold their breaths in anticipation. For a brief moment, Mark wonders if the ghost has had enough of their stupidity and decided to move on. That wasn't the case.

**ghosts can't Have sex**

Mark can't help but picture a mischievous grin pushing at the Donghyuck’s cheeks, even though he has no idea what the ghost looks like. Yukhei makes a small sound of disappointment.

**normally**

The dish slides back into the centre nonchalantly, like it didn't just drop a bomb on Yukhei. Mark is scared to look up and see Yukhei’s expression, but he has a pretty good idea what it might look like. A child at Christmas? Probably.

“You're literally his first confirmation of paranormal activity, couldn’t you have broken it to him a little more gently?” Mark whines.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe this-- You need to tell me everything.” Yukhei breathes out, eyes wide and intense.

Mark sighs loudly.

The dish wobbles briefly, leaving the impression that Donghyuck is grinning.

**like what**

Yukhei leans in like a little kid over the most interesting toy on the planet. “So, how does that actually go down? Do you do it with other ghosts, or is it with living people?”

The dish swirls around again, looking for the right words.

 **living** , it points to, followed by:  **sometimes**   **possess**

Yukhei frowns. “Wait, let me get this straight... You possess someone and have sex with someone else. Is that right?”

Mark feels the tips of his ears burn as Yukhei’s questions get more specific. Suddenly it doesn’t feel like a good idea to be a part of this conversation anymore. He was here to make sure Yukhei didn’t do anything stupid, but it seems like he’s got the situation under control. Not to mention… all this talk about sex with a possessed person is making Mark feel a bit uncomfortable.

**more or less**

“What about other times? You said sometimes possess, so what about everything else?” Yukhei pushes.

The dish doesn’t move for a while, like it doesn’t know how to answer. But when it does, it’s dragging across the paper like it’s very annoyed.

**look  
** **easier to possess and explain**

Yukhei’s eyes widen. He turns to look at Mark, whose shocked eyes stare right back at him.

“Dude, no. Like, this is not even worth considering. Who knows what could happen...” Mark tries to reason, immediately slapping a hand on Yukhei’s arm to physically hold him back.

Yukhei looks equally concerned, swallowing a lump in his throat. His heart pounds with where this conversation is going. There’s no telling what could happen, and hell, he’s not stupid. He’s heard possession stories where things have gone wrong.

But the old man said that he’d be okay…

Yukhei glances at the dish and, despite the death grip from Mark on his arm, asks, “Not that I’m agreeing to it, but how does this possession thing actually work?”

A shot of fear shoots through Mark’s brain.  _Is Yukhei serious?_

“Dude, what are you saying?”

Ignoring Mark’s outburst, the dish moves again.

 **consent** , it points,  **like mind meld in star trek**

Mark is borderline in hysterics now.

“You can’t possibly be considering going through with this. How can we trust what he’s saying? What if he’s lying and he possesses you and you’re no longer there? Like, here? You can’t possibly know what’s gonna happen...” Mark trails off, because Yukhei is shooting him a strange look. He gently lifts Mark’s hand off his arm, and squeezes it lightly.

“You’re not trying to trick me just to possess me, are you?” Yukhei asks without breaking their stare. Mark’s cheeks begin to warm.

When the dish moves, they both look down to see the answer:

**no**

“Have you done this before?” Mark asks quietly.

**not for malice**

There was a long silence.

Then Yukhei moves back, pulling Mark with him. He speaks in a hushed tone, like the ghost can’t hear them. Mark tries hard to steady his breathing and focus on Yukhei’s words.

“It’s mind meld,” Yukhei begins. “If this ghost is as pop-culture savvy as he seems, it means I have equal control over my mind and body. I’m just sharing it with someone else for the time being.”

“You’re just doing this to get answers from a ghost. You don’t  _need_  this information to live,” Mark argues.

“Yes, but this opportunity may never present itself again. And he doesn’t seem to be a bad ghost with some kind of unresolved conflict,” Yukhei refutes.

Mark doesn’t say anything, but his eyebrows pull so far inwards they form an intense line down his forehead. Yukhei can’t help but laugh at it.

“Dude, this isn’t funny,” Mark protests, but he knows it’s a losing battle at this point.

“Okay, I’ll take a bit of time to think it through. Maybe I’ll go ask the old man at the temple again. Okay?” Yukhei reassures with an impish grin. He pulls Mark close and places a hand on his head. “Didn’t think you’d be this worried about me.”

“I-I’m not. Well, no. I have every reason to be!” Mark says indignantly, shaking his head.

Yukhei’s face pulls into a wide grin, which would look cute if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s also pretty much signed up to get possessed by a ghost. Mark shivers. Because it’s a real possibility, solidified by Yukhei saying that he’ll go ask the old man again instead of backing out of this completely.

Mark feels a burden on his shoulders. He doesn’t want this to happen, but he wants it even less for Yukhei to be doing this alone. If, and this is a really big if, Yukhei trusts the ghost this much, Mark should also stick around and watch where it goes. ‘Cause, you know, moral support, in the face of a poltergeist situation and all.

“Please don't try anything without me.”

Yukhei has the gall to wink at Mark.

“Not in a million years, especially not without you,” He reassures, smiling widely.

Mark holds his gaze for a moment longer, then steps away with a shake of his head, muttering about irresponsible people who’d willingly get possessed under his breath. Yukhei chuckles and returns to the newspaper.

“Hey ghost, that's all for today. Thanks for swinging by to chat!” He calls out, a lightness to his voice.

Mark cannot say for sure, but he can almost feel the ghost snorting around them, like an exasperated exhale of air, and the pressure in the room disappears.

He didn't even feel the pressure until it was gone.

 

Mark almost crumbles, but he catches himself in time. Instead of sitting at the dining table, which now seems too dangerous to be near, he shuffles into Yukhei’s bedroom, a narrow pencil box space with a small bed and not much of anything else. He sits on the bed, feeling the adrenaline catching up, shaking his entire body from the core.

There are no windows in the room, and the darkness prevents Yukhei from reading Mark’s expression, but Yukhei has a good idea. “Mark, you really don’t need to worry this much. I’ll be okay,” Yukhei says from the doorway.

Mark levels a baleful glare at him. “You don't even know what you've signed up for,” He shoots back, ridiculously pissed.

“Just hear me out-” Yukhei starts, climbing onto the bed too.

Mark huffs, but makes space for Yukhei all the same.

“If you're going to give me bullshit excuses, you can save it,” He mutters grimly, shuffling towards the side wall.

Yukhei chuckles. But instead of sitting in the vacated space like Mark expected, Yukhei looms just above him with a strange glint in his eyes. Mark falls backwards, surprised.

“Bro, what are you doing?” He stammers.

Instead of replying, Yukhei leans down slowly...

Mark’s eyes widen...

And Yukhei smashes their heads together. Hard.

“DUDE.” Mark hollers, shoving Yukhei back while rubbing at the lump forming on his forehead. He quickly scrambles towards the back of the bed, feeling trapped for some reason, heart running a mile a minute in his chest.

_Did Yukhei just try to kiss him?_

Yukhei hisses in pain as well. “Ow. Shit. Totally misjudged the distance.”

“What the fuck, bro?” Mark grinds out.

“I heard that head-to-head rubs help calm a person. Or was that a cat?” Yukhei straightens slowly, rubbing his forehead as well.

Mark is gobsmacked.

“I'm starting to think you are neither,” he says slowly. “Or at least, definitely not human. Not with that lack of self-preservation.”

Steeling his resolve, Mark climbs to the foot of the bed where Yukhei has taken a seat, then pushes past the taller man to go to the kitchen.

“W-wait, where are you going?” Yukhei pursues, also getting to his feet.

“Anywhere. I’m not fucking with a haunted place, man. What happened today is enough to give me the chills for years to come.” Mark tries to keep his voice steady, but it's like he's suddenly out of breath. He toes on his shoes, completely ignoring his books. There’s no way he’ll bring home anything that touched that table with him. It’s a Korean textbook and a pen, he’ll cut his losses.

Yukhei jumps on Mark in an instant, wrapping his long arms around his smaller frame, preventing him from leaving.

“But you can't, we haven’t uh, we haven't had dinner yet!” Yukhei says, eyes wide with a look of anxiousness about them.

Mark falters. Yukhei didn't even bat an eyelash when he was talking to a ghost, and yet he's freaking out about food? But then again, this is Yukhei. He's unpredictable at best. Mark squeezes his temples to delay the headache that is practically guaranteed at this point.

“Your fucking priorities man, get them checked.”

With strong fingers and too much practice, Mark peels Yukhei off of him and goes back to putting his sneakers on. Yukhei looks disheartened, until Mark clears his throat and turns to the door. “Grab my bag and books. Let's go out for food.”

Yukhei straightens immediately, wearing a smile so bright it can light a city. “Wait up!” He says excitedly, sliding all over the apartment to get everything.

Mark takes a few steps into the hallway, then takes a deeper breath.

“Mark, wait!” Yukhei calls after him.

The slightest smile graces Mark’s lips. “C’mon. What do you want to eat?”

“Noodles! You pay!” Then he stills, like remembering something. “Wait, actually, I’ll pay!”

Mark, not realizing the slip-up, snorts and enters the elevator. “Of course you’ll pay, ‘cause I sure as hell am not covering for you.”

Yukhei grins wryly and hurries in after Mark. “Or did you want something else? McDonalds maybe?”

Mark wrinkles his nose and shoots Yukhei a strange look. He reaches for his bag but Yukhei shakes his head like he's saying  _I got it_.

“Didn’t you already decide on noodles? Let’s just go to the closest one,” he says.

The elevator doors open and Mark strolls out with Yukhei close behind.

They end up going to the closest street stall, sitting on rickety plastic chairs while scarfing down steamy bowls of beef noodles. It’s dark out, but the street stall, much like most parts of Hong Kong, are so well lit that it looks almost like daytime. The temperature has gone up, but not by much. Still, the evening is breezy, for which Mark is thankful. He finishes the rest of his noodles while Yukhei waits, bouncing his leg.

Yukhei looks up from his phone as Mark slurps down the last bits of noodles.

“Done?” Yukhei asks.

Mark nods with a small smile.

Yukhei is about to grab the tab and go up to the front to pay, but Mark slides him $40HKD and asks him to cover the rest. His smile wavers for a split second, before he nods and pays the rest.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you back?” Yukhei offers.

“Please. I’m not a child.” Mark waves it off nonchalantly. “Now give me my bag already, I’m not so helpless that I can’t carry it myself.” He extends his hands.

Yukhei stares at Mark’s outstretched hands and slowly shifts the bag straps onto them.

_Huh, Mark’s hands are unnaturally clammy._

Yukhei looks at Mark again, this time really squinting. Mark frowns at the look, but Yukhei sees it. A slight tug around Mark’s eyes, the downturn of his mouth. Then he remembers how Mark reacted to the ghost, and smiles to himself.

“C’mon, I wanna say hi to your mom anyways, see if I can bum free snacks from her.” Yukhei grins easily, and turns on his heel to head into the direction of Mark’s apartment, with a sputtering Mark following behind.

•••

Mark’s mother makes Yukhei join them for chilled watermelon, a late night treat to battle the summer’s heat. Conversation flows easily between Yukhei and Mark’s mom and before they know it, Yukhei’s invited to an impromptu sleepover, causing both Mark and Yukhei to blink at the turn of events.

Yukhei has only done this once or twice before, but Mark used to have a lot of sleepovers in Vancouver, and his mother refuses to believe that he’s grown up.

“We don’t even have enough space on the bed,” Mark says quietly as he fluffs the guest pillow. Yukhei’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth, and Mark doesn’t want to be overheard.

“You sleep on a double, that’s more than enough space,” his mom says, kicking up the AC.

“Do you see Yukhei? He takes up so much space he’s gonna shove me off my bed!” Mark complains.

“Stop being a drama queen. It’s midnight and I don’t want Yukhei walking around the city. I’ve already notified his mother,” she chides, crossing his arms and giving Mark a look that brooks no argument.

“...that’s true,” Mark mutters, scrunching up his nose. “But no one in their right minds would attack a giant, even if he has bricks for brains.”

“I’ll have you know my marks have been improving!” says a voice from behind them.

“Yeah? Show me,” Mark banters without looking back.

“Thanks for letting me stay, auntie.” Yukhei flashes his most charming smile, and Mark’s mother gives him a friendly pat on his arm before leaving the room.

“Good night, boys.” She says with a smile and shuts the door behind her.

A pause.

“I don’t even have clothes big enough for you,” Mark mutters, mostly to himself, as he digs in his closet for appropriate pyjamas.

“I can just sleep in my boxers...” Yukhei suggests.

Mark pins him with such a withering look that it would make a lesser man crumble. But not Yukhei. He flashes Mark a shit-eating grin and begins to climb in bed while shedding his t-shirt and pants.

“Only because there are no alternatives,” Mark agrees reluctantly, averting his gaze. He quickly switches off the lights to hide his growing blush. “Don’t cross the middle.”

“But I’m bigger--”

“--and it's my house. Do you want to sleep on the floor instead?” Mark shoots back.

“This is not how one treats guests,” Yukhei complains without heat. In fact, Mark can hear the playful smirk tugging at his lips.

Mark sighs in exasperation. “You’re less of a guest and more of a pest. Now shut up and move over.”

Yukhei obediently shuffles away after kicking his clothes off the bed. Mark scrunches his nose at the pile of clothes, but fights back another complaint and crawls into bed as well. He bumps into Yukhei’s leg and scowls.

“Move,” he grumbles, shoving the offending leg out of the way and crawling into the small space.

“I'm already to the edge of the mattress,” Yukhei complains.

Mark sighs loudly and flips to his back, praying to get at least three hours of uninterrupted rest, but Yukhei has other ideas.

“You really were scared for me, weren't you?” The taller man asks, voice a low rumble. Mark can hear the grin in his words, and his forehead crinkles.

“No shit. It's a ghost we’re dealing with here,” Mark mutters softly.

Yukhei chuckles quietly. “You watch too many movies. From what the old man said, they’re not as scary as Hollywood makes them out to be.”

“You literally don't know that, man,” Mark grits out, flipping to his side to glare at Yukhei.

When his face falls centimeters away from Yukhei’s, he freezes.

Yukhei blinks. “What?”

Mark clears his throat awkwardly. “N-nothing. I just think that with any paranormal activity, the logical action is to turn the other way, not run headlong into it,” Yukhei opens his mouth to form his rebuttal, but Mark continues, “But since you’re convinced that nothing bad  _will_  happen…”

Mark trails off, looking at Yukhei with uncertainty.

“Just come with me to see the old man. You'll be convinced that ghosts are more or less harmless,” Yukhei consoles, voice just above a whisper. “You have time tomorrow, right?”

“I guess.” Mark worries his bottom lip.

Yukhei notes the deep crease between Mark’s eyebrows and suddenly flips to his back. “There’s snow in Vancouver, right?”

Mark jumps at the motion. He blinks in confusion. “Yes?”

Yukhei hums thoughtfully. “Does it start around the same time as it does in Korea?”

Mark tries to remember. “I think? Thereabouts? They are along a similar longitude, so they're around the same temperature too.”

“That's dope! I've never seen real snow before.”

“Of course, Hong Kong is a tropical city.” Mark points out redundantly. “Have you been anywhere else before?”

“Once, to Tokyo, a few years ago.” Yukhei says wistfully. “But my parents are too busy working to bring my anywhere, and it's too expensive to live in this city, much less travel.”

“That's true. But you're at an international school, so you'll at least be equipped for most overseas travel,” Mark reasons.

Yukhei shrugs with one shoulder. “I guess so.”

Mark studies Yukhei's profile for a moment, then he says quietly, “You can stay with me if we ever go to Vancouver together.”

He doesn't know what compelled him to make such a big offer. It's true that his grandmother still lives in Vancouver, and if he ever visits, he'll likely be staying with her, but why would Yukhei be there?

“I might just take you up on that.” Yukhei shoots a small grin at Mark's direction. “I'd love to see snow. And experience seasonal weather changes.”

Mark snorts. “It’s something to experience, I guess. But when you have to shovel the snow off the driveway one too many times, you'll appreciate it a lot less.”

“That's why it’d be your responsibility, not mine.” Yukhei winks cheekily.

“I'm retracting my offer. You don't help around the house, you don't stay with me,” Mark says in irritation. He flips onto his back and pulls the blankets tighter around himself.

Yukhei chuckles.

“How cold does it get?” He asks softly.

“Not terribly. You'll need a down jacket though,” Mark replies just as softly.

Yukhei hums in response, a sound so low and comforting that it makes Mark's eyelids droop a little.

“I'll shovel snow if you promise to show me around,” he says, voice barely a whisper.

Mark buries his head closer into his pillow. “Deal.”

There's a long pause, and Mark’s eyelids flutter shut.

“Night, Mark,” He hears Yukhei say, but he doesn't remember if he responded before falling asleep.


	2. 02.a

When Mark wakes up the next morning, he’s curled on his side in the middle of the bed with a trail of drool going down the side of his face. The sunlight is muted through the curtains, and tells Mark that it’s much later than he usually wakes up. It's been a while since he slept in on a Sunday.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he sits up, his stiff body groans in protest. He exhales and frowns at the window. Why does he feel like he's forgetting something...

Something crashes outside, and Mark jumps from his bed. The fuck? He darts out the door to see Yukhei wearing his baggiest sweatpants and picking up the dropped spatula and an empty plastic bowl.

Oh… right.

Mark makes a show of yawning really loudly to play off the blush on his cheeks. Why do his sweatpants fit Yukhei so nicely, showing off his trimmed waist and well earned glutes? He looks like a sack of potatoes in comparison.

Deeming it too early for this kind of… Yukhei, Mark twists his neck to hide his blush and clears his throat. “Can you stop breaking my shit so early in the morning? Or ever, for that matter?”

Yukhei jumps and turns to see Mark behind him. He grins sheepishly and waves an apologetic paw. “Sorry, didn't mean to drop the spoon-”

“Spatula.” Mark corrects.

“-but I'm making HK style French toast! Do you want some?”

Mark smells the peanut butter in the air and his stomach immediately decides for him, growling up a beast. He blushes even harder.

Yukhei snickers. “I'll be done in another five.”

A quick glance at the messages on his phone tells Mark that his mom will be back in the afternoon- she has some church things to take care of. He scratches the back of his head, realizes he'll have to entertain Yukhei until he leaves, and begrudgingly joins Yukhei in the kitchen to keep an eye on big klutz.

Yukhei is tall in a normal open space, but he seems like a giant when cooking inside Mark's kitchen. If he turns quickly, Mark has no doubt that the wind tunnel he creates will turn the kitchen upside down. It's a shock he’s only knocked a couple things over.

“I don't remember giving you permission to my kitchen,” Mark grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Your mum did, with the one condition that I feed you because she’s worried you’ll burn eggs again.” Yukhei chuckles, casually twirling the spatula in his hands.

Mark buries his face into his hands and groans. “Oh my god will she ever let that go.”

“Probably never.”

Mark watches Yukhei expertly flip the two french toasts with the pan, and feels fidgety. With nothing better to do, he scoops a few spoons of coffee grind into the coffee machine and flips it on. He's not a big fan of coffee, but knows Yukhei appreciates a strong cup in the morning.

Yukhei says nothing, but smiles to himself as the french toast browns in the pan.

A while later, Yukhei loads a small tower of french toast on one plate, and a considerably taller tower on another plate. Mark pours out some coffee into two cups. Yukhei drizzles some good old maple syrup on the plates, then settles them on the table.

To finish, and because Mark will probably lose his sanity if he were to eat with a topless Yukhei, he finds his biggest t-shirt and throws it at the taller man. Yukhei laughs good naturedly and pulls the shirt over his head in a smooth motion.

“Thanks for the food.” Mark says, then says a prayer under his breath before digging in.

Yukhei stares at him, smiling indulgently as Mark cuts out a big bite with the side of his fork. It’s delicious and hits Mark’s sweet tooth in the right spot. Not too oily, not too sweet, and just the right amount of crisp. Mark takes another bite.

“How is it?”

“Hm, tastes like garbage.” Mark replies, cheeks like a hamster.

Yukhei snorts. “No compliments this morning? Stingy.”

Mark swallows the bite. “Stop fishing. You can’t go wrong with peanut butter and condensed milk sandwiches dipped in egg as pan fried with butter, disgusting as it sounds. Are you gonna eat or not?”

Yukhei snorts, making an exaggerated motion cutting his french toast. “Yeah you can, if you made it.”

Mark raises an eyebrow. “Really? Get out of my home.” He grabs for Yukhei’s plate.

Yukhei quickly snatches his plate back, hugging it protectively with his big hands. “But I made you breakfast! And I haven’t eaten yet!”

Mark wrinkles his nose. Damn those big beefy arms, the plate’s not moving. “Negated with the bullshit I gotta put up with.”

Seeing that he’s safe, Yukhei puts down his plate again. “You don’t mean that.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “Yeah? Try me.”

Yukhei swallows an extra big bite and says, “Okay. Wanna go back to the temple again? We can talk to the old man together.”

Oh. A chill runs down Mark’s spine and he quickly straightens. “Can’t, I got swim club duties.”

“The swim team manager thing?” Mark nods. “It won't take the whole day, will it?”

“...no. But I still got a bad feeling about this, and I’m trying to keep myself from being involved,” Mark admits quietly.

Yukhei whines and pouts. It’s not adorable at all. “But you wanted to make sure that I'd be okay…”

Mark narrows his eyes. “I'm starting to think nothing will faze you.”

Yukhei hums. “So you're not joining?”

Mark crosses his arms, wearing an unamused expression. “Are you letting him possess you?”

Yukhei shrugs. “If that's the easiest way to communicate.”

“You know how crazy that sounds, right?”

“Yeah, and cool!” Yukhei grins. “He doesn't seem like a bad guy. Trust me, nothing bad will happen! I got this.”

Mark scrunches his nose as his concern deepens. “I’ve said this before, but you literally don't know that. How can you be so sure?”

Yukhei sniffs and scratches a spot on his arm, meeting Mark’s eyes with a hesitant look. “I know this is all superstition, but I've been told that I've always had a strong yang aura. Like, ghosts don’t want to fuck with me, I'm basically a ghost repellant.”

Mark raises a dubious eyebrow.

Yukhei shakes his head. “I know, it sounds like complete bullshit. But so did communicating with ghosts up until it actually happened, then it doesn’t seem so crazy.”

Unconvinced but without a rebuttal, Mark nods and purses his lips. “Fair. If what you're saying is true, does that make Donghyuck strong, or stupid?”

“Who knows. But… now that I think about it…”

Mark does not like the glint in Yukhei’s eyes.

“If I beg ignorance, I won't be held accountable, right?” Mark mutters rhetorically, under his breath.

The question falls on deaf ears as Yukhei continues. “If I'm possessed how can I talk to the ghost?”

Mark shakes his head, bothered by the inconsistencies. “Didn’t you say it was like mind meld? Can't you just communicate telepathically or something?”

Yukhei hums thoughtfully with a curiously measured look in his eyes. He's also staring at Mark, who catches the look, blinks, then shifts uncomfortably. “Don't even think about it.”

“You don't even know what I'm thinking about.”

“You’re trying to involve me somehow, I know you are.”

“No… well, yes, but just hear me out,” says Yukhei. “The ghost possesses me, and I’ll give you a list of questions-”

“See? I knew it, I knew it!”

“No but I’m a ghost repellant. I can probably kick him out if I really wanted to-”

“-You sound like you're speaking from experience but I know you're not. You're just bullshitting all of this to get me t-to-”

And Mark realizes too late, because he’s caught in Yukhei's deadly effective puppy eyes and pout combo.

...

_Nghhhrrmotherfucker-_

Yukhi smirks when he knows he has Mark around his freakishly big pinky, and the spell breaks. “It's just a possession, I'm not offering my life to Donghyuck. It’ll be fine,” he consoles.

Mark sighs in frustration. “You're basing this off of one sample of data. It’s as reliable as… as-” Mark feels his blood pressure spike to new heights and takes a deep breath. “I can't believe you're using _that_ to convince me to do this.” he says, letting out a resigned sigh.

“Any means, as long as it works.” Yukhei smiles, not the least bit ashamed.

They eat the last bites in silence.

Later, as Yukhei collects his and Mark’s dishes to put in the sink, Mark stares at him and wonders aloud, “I don’t get it, why do you want to talk to the dead so much?”

Yukhei hums, soaping up the sponge. He starts washing the dishes, and Mark moves beside him, rinsing and placing the dishes on the drying rack. “They’ve literally gone from our understanding of this world to something else. I mean, yeah I guess I can wait another 60 years to find out, or I can know now.”

Mark shakes his head, placing the dishes onto the drying rack. “But what if what you learn changes the way you think and act? What if it becomes a negative impact?”

Yukhei shrugs, and their arms brush. “Lots of things that happen in life do the same thing.”

Mark chews his lips and nods slowly. “I guess.”

They finish the task in thoughtful silence.

Mark checks the time on his phone, and turns to Yukhei. “I’m gonna wash up and head out in a bit.”

Yukhei nods. “When does your swim thing end? And where is it? At the campus pool?”

Mark nods and starts packing everything he needs into a duffle bag, and Yukhei eyes the lightning blue speedos with interest. “Yeah, campus pool. We’re meeting up at noon. It’ll probably take 2 or 3 hours.”

Yukhei hums and checks his phone. “But it’s just 10:30, you have plenty of time.”

Mark shrugs. “Commute takes a while.”

“It’s a Sunday, I doubt it’ll be that busy.” Yukhei argues.

“Says the one who was never awake before noon on a Sunday,” Mark shoots back, taking off his shirt and throwing it into the hamper. Yukhei almost chokes on his own spit. “Gonna shower. Be right back.”

Feeling his throat dry up, Yukhei barely manages a nod, looking away to hide his face. Mark doesn’t see this, he’s already turned to the bathroom.

Yukhei has seven blessed minutes to get his… rather excited imagination to calm the fuck down.

Then Mark walks in with a towel around his bare shoulders, completely topless, sweatpants fitting loose around his slim waist, showing hints of his well-toned legs, and Yukhei Jr. pops right back up.

There is no justice to this world.

Yukhei immediately flips to his stomach, pretending to be busy on his phone while Mark rummages through his closet to find clothes. It’s only seconds, but Mark is covered when Yukhei peers up again, much to his relief. He kicks at Yukhei’s legs. “C’mon dude, get dressed. I’m not leaving you in my house when no one’s here.”

“Why are you trying to kick me out of your home. I’ve been nothing but an awesome guest. I even cooked for you,” Yukhei counters with an annoying smirk, suddenly feeling like he needs to get back at Mark for the unexpected rush of hormones.

Mark crosses his arms. “Just because you were invited to stay the _night_ doesn’t mean you get to stay here _forever_. Let’s go.”

“I don’t have anything to do though, I don’t wanna go~o.” Yukhei complains childishly.

“Not my problem. I’m gonna be late. _Let’s go._ ”

“You have a whole hour to get to campus. It probably takes an hour to drive around the entirety of the Hong Kong Island, being as tiny as we are. Calm yourself.”

The irony is not lost on Yukhei, who needs to calm himself and stop his imagination from providing rather inventive positions in the steamy shower room involving a half-naked Mark. It’s not really working.

Mark makes an impatient sound at the back of his throat. “Do you really have nothing else to do?”

“Nothing is more important than being here, annoying the shit out of you,” Yukhei replies with an impish grin.

Mark raises an eyebrow. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get up before I change my mind helping you with the ghost. Ten-”

Yukhei jumps to his feet in an instant. “Dude, why would you?”

Mark smirks in victory. “Awesome, now put your own clothes back on and let’s go.”

Seconds after Mark finishes his sentence, Yukhei angrily throws the borrowed t-shirt at him, followed closely by the sweatpants. Mark flushes bright red and quickly walks out of his room, muttering about stripping tall ass people under his breath, to which Yukhei replies with a haughty, _You asked for it_.

They’re outside of Mark’s apartment when Yukhei pulls Mark back a bit, away from the onslaught of foot traffic in the busy streets of Hong Kong.

“Give me a call when you’re done?” His expressive eyes searching.

Mark hums noncommittally and yanks his arm away. “I’ll see.”

“Or I could come with you,” Yukhei suggests with a smile.

“No way.” Mark looks away. “I have enough trouble as it is to reign everyone’s attentions onto swimming, your presence won’t help.”

“But I wanna watch you swim,” Yukhei whines, well, as much as a 6 foot tall, deep-voiced giant whines. “And are you saying I’m a distraction? Even to you?”

“Yes, no,” Mark clears his throat awkwardly. _Not going there._ “I’m not even gonna ask why you wanna watch. You can come in at the end, if you want.”

Yukhei grins. “Okay, promise!”

And they part ways.

•••

True to Yukhei’s word, he doesn’t show up at the campus pool until around 3 pm.

Mark has finished cleaning the pool and is in the process of making some final notes on the next swim meet, contacting the bus rental company and sending email updates to the swim club heads when Yukhei finds him.

“Ready?” He asks.

Mark nods. “Just about, gimme a few minutes to wrap up.”

Yukhei doesn’t say anything else and wanders off, which is why Mark isn’t even surprised when he hears a yelp and a splash, followed by giggles and squeals outside his office, by the pool. He ignores the twist of feelings at his gut and finishes his email.

Then his phone vibrates once, the preview of the message a wall of crying faces from Yukhei, and he sighs. He clicks on the PA system and says in his sternest voice, “Yukhei Wong, pool office. Now.”

There was a beat of silence, then more squealing and giggling ensue.

Mark prays for patience.

Yukhei re-emerges a moment later, dripping wet from head to toe, smiling hesitantly. Mark raises an eyebrow very, very slowly.

“What the actual fuck?”

“...so, I may have gone swimming,” Yukhei starts sheepishly.

“You fell,” Mark points out flatly. Yukhei immediately straightens.

“...so, I may have fallen into the pool after the girls on your team jump-scared me.”

Mark facepalms and makes a mental note to talk to his girls before next practice. He gives Yukhei a quick once-over, then spins his chair around to the lockers by the corner. “I think I might have an extra set of clothes lying around. Hold on.”

Yukhei presses close peeks from above Mark’s head. “Will they fit?”

Mark throws his elbow back and Yukhei, having anticipated this, flexes his abs. His elbow bounces off in a hilarious kind of way, and he glares (and blushes) into the locker even harder.

“Back off, you’re covering the light,” he says through grit teeth. “And I’m offering because I didn’t think you’d want to walk around in wet clothes, but by all means, insult my size and we’ll do the ghost thing with you all wet and me all nice and comfy and dry.”

“Or I could make you wet and we’d be even.”

Yukhei’s strong arms snake around Mark’s shoulders, pressing their bodies close. His voice is low and teasing beside Mark’s ear, and Mark jumps in shock, ramming his bony shoulder into Yukhei’s nose.

“OW!”  
“Dude don’t do that-!”

Yukhei tumbles back a few steps, clutching onto his nose, but Mark pays him no mind until he finds the biggest pair of shorts and sweater and throws them at the pathetically whining Yukhei.

“I think it’s bleeding. Mark, come check.” Yukhei blubbers.

Mark makes an unimpressed face. “Deserved that. Change.”

Before Yukhei has a chance to respond, Mark makes a beeline for the pool, careful to paste an easy smile when greeting random students. It’s after practice, so the pool is free for public use, and some students are coming in and out.

He sighs, twisting to inspect the back of his shirt for the wet stains. There is a wide one across his back, and spots on his sleeves. Thankfully, it’ll dry quickly under Hong Kong’s relentless sun. He kicks at the flutter boards that are stacked to one side of the pool, lost in thoughts.

Yukhei should know better, should know that he isn't big on physical contact. So why does he keep doing this? And more importantly, why is he too big that Mark can’t fight him off?

He scrubs the back of his head and lets out a sound of frustration. There’s no understanding Yukhei sometimes (often times, actually) and this is definitely one of those. After another moment, he twists and heads back to the office. One look inside tells him Yukhei is properly dressed again, and he waves for him to come out.

The taller man follows like a puppy to its owner.

“Temple? It won't take long, promise,” Yukhei ventures.

Mark scrunches his face up, but he nods. He’s promised, after all.

In half an hour, they're back at the temple. In another five minutes, Mark is even less convinced, Yukhei even more so, and they're going back to Yukhei's apartment.

“I hardly understood a word the man said,” Mark complains.

“That’s not my fault. You should learn some Cantonese,” Yukhei points out bluntly. “Seriously, he told us the same thing I've been trying to say: ghosts are kinda scared of me. If I wanted to get rid of Donghyuck after he possesses me, I can probably do it without stressing. Like, seriously, that's what he said.”

“I could've sworn I heard some swear words in there…” Mark frowns suspiciously.

“Okay, so maybe I paraphrased, but I didn't mince the sentiment behind the words,” Yukhei shrugs.

The conversation drifts as they exit the rickety elevators into Yukhei’s apartment. Mark suppresses a shiver, eyeing around suspiciously before he enters. Yukhei rolls his eyes at his friend’s dramatics.

“I’m gonna ditch you if this goes south, just so you know.” Mark warns in a whisper, gingerly toeing off his shoes as though loud noises would scare a ghost.

Yukhei laughs. “Let’s see if Donghyuck is around first.”

He is. It takes a couple minutes, but the dish snaps into motion after Yukhei’s incessant “screaming summons”, or that’s what Donghyuck describes it with the words on the newspaper.

**chill the fuck out**

Mark is surprised at the yes, no, and swear words on the newspaper, but then he realizes Yukhei’s added his own “alphabet”, right beside Mark’s hangeul, and scowls instead.

“So, I’ve been thinking about the mind-meld thing. Is it possible to communicate with you in our minds, or am I playing a passive role here?” Yukhei asks.

 **passive,** replies Donghyuck.

Yukhei hums contemplatively. “But you know I can probably push you out if I want to, right?”

Mark reads the bluff as soon as he hears it, but he doesn’t react, hoping that it won’t give Yukhei away.

 **probably** , comes the vague answer.

“Will it harm you in any way? Mind meld or the push/force out?”

The dish is slow to respond, but when it does, it points to a resolute **no,** and then: **to both**

Yukhei meets Mark’s eyes, the resolution clear in his eyes. Mark doesn’t know how to react, so he goes with a half-hearted shrug.

Yukhei turns back to the dish. “Okay, Donghyuck. Let’s do this.”

Everything is quiet for a moment, like the energy in the room settles. Mark stares at Yukhei for any visible change. Perhaps his eyes would roll to the back of his head, or he would sweat profusely? Or maybe his face would contort into a horrifying expression, one that would haunt Mark for years and years...

…

But there’s nothing. Mark blinks at Yukhei, who blinks back.

“Hey?” Mark says hesitantly.

“Hi.”

The tone is different. The way his mouth forms the words is wrong. The slight amusement in his eyes is wrong. Too subtle. Too soft. Nothing like the Yukhei Mark has come to know so well.

“Donghyuck.” Mark swallows the lump in his throat, his mouth dry. “How are you feeling? Is Yukhei okay?”

“He’s fine, and laughing at you for worrying,” Yukhei- no, Donghyuck, in Yukhei’s body says, a faint quirk to his lips.

Mark looks away, experiencing uncanny valley in a way he’d never expect. _How much weirder is this gonna get?_

“I’m feeling good though, thanks for asking,” comes the almost sarcastic response.

Mark frowns at the tone and shifts his gaze to openly observe Donghyuck-possessed Yukhei again. His eyes are clear, intelligent in a way Yukhei isn’t. Then again, he possesses otherworldly knowledge, so Mark really shouldn’t be that surprised. The laugh lines around his mouth an imprinted memory, replaced by something smoother and rounder. Even his voice sounds marginally higher, which is weird by all accounts. Getting possessed changes your physiology? Who would’ve thought.

Mark clears his throat awkwardly, then he remembers the hastily scribbled list of questions prepared by Yukhei before all of this.

“So… Yukhei has questions for you.”

Donghyuck nods. “Ask away.”

Mark clears his throat, the paper crinkles in his clammy hand. “What’s it like, being dead?”

Donghyuck snorts. “What do you think? It’s neither here nor there. I walk around a lot, but it's not like I can leave this place.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow. “How did you figure that out?”

Donghyuck plays with the torn fluffs of Yukhei's jeans. “Because I tried. I wanted to go back… to Korea, so I boarded a plane, several planes, but whenever I got close to the border, I would be transported back. I think it's because my ashes are here, but I have no way of confirming.”

“What about the other ghosts?”

“I don’t speak Cantonese,” comes the dry reply.

“Your parents…” Mark trails.

Donghyuck shrugs. “My parents didn’t care enough to come and claim my ashes, so I've never been able to go back. After time, I've grown used to, and kinda fond of Hong Kong.”

Mark doesn’t know what to say, he's having a tough time digesting this information as is. Donghyuck must've sensed it, so he continues.

“The moment I died, I appeared beside my body as a ghost and saw myself being carted out from the ambulance to the hospital, only to be pronounced dead. It's been forty some odd years since then, and I've picked up a few things here and there. It's all I can do.”

Mark catches the way he bounces his leg, like out of habit despite not having a body of flesh and blood for so long.

He forgoes the list of questions.

“What have you learned?”

Donghyuck hunches forward, eyeing Mark with bright, curious, _Yukhei_ eyes. “English, for one. This city is horribly multicultural, and racist to the core. At the beginning, I felt more at ease being with foreigners. I thought they were less corrupt, more honest and genuine. But that changed over time. It's hard to be different when the system actively suppresses the poor majority to benefit a handful of rich. After that, I wandered from household to household, urban to rural, then back to urban.”

Mark hums, contemplative. “Then you must be familiar with the city, right?”

“I suppose? Hong Kong is fast-paced and ever changing, and I don’t have the interest to keep track of everything.”

“What do you have an interest for?”

“The arts,” Donghyuck says, a bit shy. “I used to sing, and learned English from the small lyric books of Western music. The 80's was a booming period of cross cultures, and Hong Kong was arguably the central hub in South East Asia. So I'd sneak into musicals like Phantom, pop concerts, even Chinese operas, though I didn’t (and still don't) have a clue what they're saying.”

A small smile plays on Donghyuck’s lips, and Mark grins softly as well.

“Sounds pretty fun to me.”

“It was, still kinda is.”

“Still do it?”

“From time to time.” Donghyuck shrugs. “It’s a lot less fun now, they even got rid of the art house theatres. Or even the ones that play raunchy movies past midnight.” He snickers, and it sounds a lot like how Yukhei would.

Mark rolls his eyes, feeling a strange fondness wash over him. “You sound like a teenager who just discovered porn.”

Donghyuck waves a hand dismissively. “Please. If I were still alive I’d probably be older than your dad.”

Mark doesn’t know what to say.

“But no, I’m just frozen at sweet, sweet twenty.” Donghyuk smirks lazily, but Mark hears the edge of bitterness in his voice, so he changes the topic.

“What can you do now that you weren’t able to do?”

Donghyuck considers the question, and flips the fingers up as he counts. “Walk through walls. Survive without food or rest. Uh. Not get injured? Does that count? And… that’s pretty much it.”

“That’s it? Lame.”

“Well _sor~ry_ to burst your bubble. Being dead isn’t all that interesting.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Pop culture makes up a bunch of bullshit about how it works, but honestly? It’s just a whole damn cycle. You live, die, reincarnate, and the cycle goes on. There’s no stop, well, until humans run the earth to the ground, which is actually pretty soon at the rate you’re going.”

Mark furrows his brows. “No faith in mankind?”

Donghyuck purses his lips. “I might’ve cared if I didn’t get run over by a drunk driver. I even might’ve cared if my parents came to pick up my remains.”

The wound rips open, clear as the daylight.

“Well, shit.”

Donghyuck checks the under of his- no, Yukhei’s fingers. “Yeah, not gonna lie, it’s pretty shit.”

“Then what keeps you around? You said reincarnation is a part of the cycle, so why haven’t you done it yet?”

Donghyuck bites his lip, searching for the right words. “I’m curious about this world. I know that if I cross, I’ll just be reborn as a part of the cycle, but right now I’m in this limbo and as far as I’m concerned, I’m in no hurry.”

Mark raises a curious brow. “Do you know how reincarnation works?”

“Something about crossing a bridge, something about a drink from an old woman to make you forget everything...” Donghyuck mumbles uncomfortably while rubbing the back of his neck, then straightens with a jump. “Anyway, I should get going.”

“Wait, Dongh-”

The pressure disappears, and Mark’s outstretched hands land on Yukhei as they both make to stand. He lands on his feet. Yukhei, on the other hand, reacts like he’s fallen from vertigo and just manages to regain his balance before he tumbles onto Mark.

“What. The fuck. Was that.” Yukhei blinks, brows full of sweat. He’s also shivering.

Mark is at a loss of words. It looked like he was going to reach for Donghyuck, not Yukhei- like he could see the other boy. If for even just one moment. He doesn’t know what he saw, it was just a flash, but it felt like… it looked like-

_Glitter._

“I don’t … I don't know, man. You got possessed by a ghost, he and I were chatting and-” Mark’s eyes widen. “Dude. Shit. How are you feeling?”

“I-I don’t even,” stutters Yukhei, wiping his brow with a ginormous hand. “I… think I remember everything? But it felt like a deja vu, like I was in a dream state, I couldn't control my body-”

That's when Mark notices: Yukhei hasn’t stopped shivering.

Mark immediately pours a glass of cold water and shoves it in Yukhei’s face. It’s downed in seconds. Seeing this, Mark moves and gets another glass, but Yukhei stops him with a hand on his arm. He's becoming pale.

“C-can you just stay for a sec? I need. I need something solid to hold me down. Please-”

Mark doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly moves to Yukhei’s side and cradles his head and shoulders in a gentle but firm embrace.

Yukhei also pulls Mark close and presses his head against the fabric above Mark's abdomen, inhaling deeply. He’s not going to lie, Mark’s scent, a clean, soft cotton detergent smell has always been his favourite smell. It's calming and familiar, much like the boy who possesses it.

When Donghyuck possessed him, he became keenly aware of the spirit's presence and, more importantly, his emotions. It wasn’t intrusive, quite the opposite actually. Donghyuck felt around the corners of his mind, slow and careful, until he found a safe place to settle and share. It was only then that the emotions came out.

For so long, the ghost has kept everything within himself. He had no one to talk to, no one to share with; he was so, so sorrowfully lonely. There was such yearning to connect with someone similar and familiar. And it didn’t just hit once, but again and again, the wave after wave of unfiltered heartache and desolation. The kind of waves that felt low and inconsequential, that build up over time until it spills over.

So when Mark asked all of those questions about Donghyuck, staring at him with big, earnest eyes, he felt Donghyuck pull back in apprehension. Maybe he was overwhelmed. Then the ghost left his body.

The ghost left, but the emotions remained.

Yukhei wasn’t familiar with this kind of loneliness, the quiet, melancholic wash of emotions that pulls him from the shore and into the dark abyss. Only that Mark is here, holding him, anchoring him as the waves pull back into the dark recesses of his mind. He hears the soft heartbeat thrum against his cheek and his heart slows to normal.

Soon, and not long enough, Yukhei pulls away, giving Mark back his precious space. But Mark doesn’t budge, drawing gentle circles on Yukhei's back with his palm.

“You feeling okay now?”

“I think so,” He says into the soft of Mark’s belly, voice is muffled in the fabrics of Mark's shirt. “Better than before.”

The shivering slowly disappears.

Yukhei chuckles, low and out of breath. “Damn. That was fucking wild.”

“What was that?”

Yukhei turns his head and presses his cheek a little closer, closing his eyes to recall the memory. “Forty something years of repressed emotions er, emotions that aren't shared.” He draws a long breath. “Donghyuck had no one to share his feelings with, and when we connected, it was like… like his feelings were a part of my own, but amplified. He was so lonely.” Yukhei shakes his head. “Those questions got personal real quick, man.”

Mark inhales sharply, but relaxes under Yukhei’s touch. He knows Yukhei didn’t mean to accuse him, only to point out what happened. “It’s hard to stay impersonal when the first question on the paper was, _‘How’s it like, being dead?’_ ,” he mumbles.

As he idly cards his fingers through Yukhei's hair, the tension bleeds from the taller man. He gingerly peels the arms from around his waist and steps back, but Yukhei's hands follow the motion, leading their hands to meet. Yukhei holds onto Mark's wrists, unwilling to drop the contact just yet.

Mark lets him.

“Stop pulling away,” Yukhei says playfully. “I just experienced an emotional overload moment, I need to be held and consoled and babied.”

Mark's eyebrows twitch. But instead of pulling away like Yukhei expects, he sighs begrudgingly and steps back into the V of Yukhei's legs.

Yukhei looks up in shock.

“Honestly, I have no idea what the fuck is going,” mumbles Mark, pulling Yukhei back into his arms. “But I got you.”

Yukhei looks down now, surprised and abashed. His heart is racing for a completely different reason, and he’s testing the words in his mouth, he wants to… he really wants to say something. He really wants to tell Mark how grateful he is of him, wants to make sure that he’s not taking him for granted, and that...

“I’m sorry to drag you through this. I didn’t anticipate that the mind meld would be this emotionally taxing,” he says instead. He firmly pushes Mark away, pasting on his most reassuring smile.

Mark’s expression turns unreadable for a moment, before he nods and punches Yukhei in the shoulder. “You crazy piece of shit.”

Yukhei grins. “One of us has to be. It’s like yin and yang.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow. “We’re hardly opposites.”

Yukhei shakes his head. “Opposites enough!- But get this: there’s a part of yin in yang and vice versa, that’s what keeps the balance-”

As Yukhei rambles on, the light brightens in his eyes again. Mark grins to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was *supposed* to be a one shot pwp. It's now some multi-chaptered, domestic monster of a fic. HyuckMarkHei is too enticing to not flesh out. Hope you liked this!
> 
> To all those who've shown interest, commented, kudos'd and subscribed: You make my day <3 From the bottom of my heart, thank you!


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